


By the Light of the Harvest Moon

by eos_3



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Drunk Sex, F/M, Light Femdom, Masks, One Night Stands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-30
Updated: 2014-10-30
Packaged: 2018-02-23 06:20:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2537366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eos_3/pseuds/eos_3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tahno's pretty sure they couldn't have come together any other way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	By the Light of the Harvest Moon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yabamena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yabamena/gifts).



Tahno is caught up in the dizzy swirl of one of many celebrations in the Water Tribe parts of town, for the Harvest Moon festival—this particular soiree is at Varrick’s hotel penthouse, yes that Varrick (who may or may not be dead, missing or in jail, the papers aren’t all that clear and no one has seen him in months), and Tahno’s glad his star hasn’t fallen quite so far that he’s not invited to the best parties.

His ears are full of upbeat music, some wild take on a traditional tune, from the best band in the RC. Also, he’s right on the edge of tipsy, having tried out another of the surprisingly strong drinks one of the wait staff offered from a tray a few minutes ago—fizzy, yellow, a bit too sweet.

At the moment he is dancing and in his arms is a woman he’s sure he’s met before—with shoulders and arms as built as that, she has to be like him, a bender, and one who likes to stay in top form. He’s sure she’s wearing a lot of subtle scars under that blue beaded dress, too, but carries them lightly. She moves like a slinking stream, graceful, athletic, and caught up in the rhythm. There’s nothing he’d like more now than to tip that mask up off her face, and see if his guess is right.

He has a few obvious hints. She’s dark, with short, dark hair, and gorgeous blue eyes, and—whoever she is—she’s well known and liked enough to have been invited. What makes him certain, though, is that he saw her arrive with another woman, who, if he is also not mistaken, is the brilliant heiress Asami Sato. This narrows down the list of possibilities quite dramatically.

It makes sense then that his partner's mask is of a stylized spirit, in blue and white, with a blue, diamond-shaped gem adorning the forehead. His mask, on the other hand, is for once not in the shape of an ostentatious Wolfbat; rather something simple and elegant in black and gold, to match the details on his suit.

From her first wry smile and slightly narrowed eyes, he’s pretty sure she knows who he is, too.

When the music stops, he gives her a little bow. “Best partner I’ve had all night. Looks like the band’s taking a breather, want to grab a drink?” he asks. It’s worth making the attempt to be respectful, as he does owe her big time. If he pissed her off, she could probably bend him into a knot, but he’s not the sort to back down from someone who might offer him a challenge.

“I may regret this, but yes, I’d like that,” she replies, and smiles, holding his gaze.

They sweep out of the main room, and sidle up to one of the servers, each grabbing a glass from his tray, and soon, they end up out on the veranda. It’s enclosed by thick glass, so that the cold air and gusting winds that batter the top of the skyscraper can’t affect the guests, and is occupied only by a few other couples.

The view from here is spectacular, the city spreading out below in a black and gold maze, other skyscrapers spearing up nearby. He notices that Korra’s eyes go immediately to the moonlit bay, to Air Temple Island and the nearby monument of her predecessor. They watch the water and the ships coming in for a while and neither of them moves when they hear the music strike up again.

“You’re quiet,” Korra says finally, lifting her mask as she turns, watching him drink.

“Not much to say. You’ve been off taking down empires and I barely made it into the finals this year,” Tahno admits, finishing his glass, still looking down on the city that used to worship him.

“At least you weren’t cheating,” she says, sounding irked. It’s been five years, but that night is impressed hard in both of their minds.

He offers a small bitter chuckle in response. “Wouldn’t matter if we were—Varrick owns both teams that were in the championship game, in case you didn’t know. They’re both sponsored by different companies, but everyone in the box seats knows they’re offshoots of Varrick Industries. The whole game is a joke now.”

“That’s…that's actually not all that surprising. So are you going to keep playing?” Korra sounds genuinely curious, and he can’t help wondering if she’s itching to pro-bend again.

“Don’t have much choice. I’m pretty sure that’s why I got this invite—it’s so I don’t complain to the commission or any of my journalist friends. And there are rumblings that I’ll be offered a contract to play on one of his teams next season.”

“Sounds like something he’d do. Wouldn’t that mean disbanding your team though?”

“Yeah. If the offer is reasonable, I can’t afford not to. How the mighty have fallen, right?”

Korra laughs into her drink. “You were never mighty,” she says, leering up at him, her eyes a little glassy.

“It’s all in the attitude, Avatar.” He straightens his collar and finally, lifting his mask, he smiles and leans in towards her.

“Well, if we’re going by that metric, maybe you’d be a contender.” There’s a look in her eyes, daring him to come closer.

“You're gonna punch me if I try to kiss you, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she says, and then grabs his collar to lay one on him anyway. He can only guess that she’s a little more than tipsy, when it doesn't end there.

They find a dark alcove, conveniently placed behind one of the pillars nearby, well away from the party, and designed to be appealing for such little trysts. He follows her lead as she’s advised, though after a while kissing isn’t enough; soon, they’re both caught up in a high tide of desire, grinding against each other on a low bench against the cold glass. This is when Korra seems to decide he's wearing too many clothes, which he is only too happy to help her rectify.

When she takes him, Tahno is under her, half-naked and already panting hard; he’s glad, relieved even, that he's managed to last this long, because he wants nothing more in this moment than to feel her come while riding him. She seems to appreciate this, moaning into his shoulder, grazing him with her teeth, as her fingers scrape and bruise his back and ass. She's rougher than he's used to, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't like it.

The night slips away in her arms, and when Korra kisses him goodbye, neither of them says a word. It’s better that they don’t, because, of course, this perfect storm of reckless abandon can’t happen again.

“Of course,” he tells himself, and watches the moon settle below the horizon.


End file.
